Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

The café’s chandelier flickered as Ashen leaned back in his chair, shadows curling around his fingers like smoke. Layla’s offer hung in the air—thick, tempting, and utterly predictable.

"We want you to join our faction in the upcoming Student Council throne challenge."

Ashen smirked. "And why would I do that? You’ve already disrupted my sweet time. We all know I don’t want to join—and I’ve already promised Rayne."

Layla’s violet eyes hardened. "We’ll offer you more."

He laughed, sharp and mocking. "More than Rayne? You don’t even know what he promised me." He counted off on his fingers. "An SS-rank artifact from the Galat vault—you know how rare those are? A guaranteed seat on the Council. And anything I demand within his reach." He tilted his head. "Right now, I’m busy thinking about what else to extort from him. So tell me, Prez—can you beat that?"

Silence.

Then Layla exhaled. "Fine. An SS-rank artifact. A Council seat. Name your desire. Anything else?"

Ashen drummed his fingers on the table. "Wow. Generous. But here’s the problem—the battle’s already over before it began." He tapped his temple. I’ve already seen the endgame. Fighting a war that isn’t mine? Not worth it. Especially when my strength and speed are on the line.

Lucielle’s fists clenched. "Brother, think about it. This is Layla’s dream—losing the seat to her rival would destroy her. There’s family pressure too!"

Ashen’s smile vanished. "Shut your mouth. Why should I help others when no one’s ever helped me?"

His sister’s voice softened. "Because that’s how you’ve always been. I thought you changed, but today—helping that girl? That was the real you."